


Bruised hands

by aleclightnerd



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7366918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleclightnerd/pseuds/aleclightnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izzy’s hands are made to fight, Clary’s are made to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruised hands

**Author's Note:**

> written for the June challenge for the TSCfanfic network on tumblr: HANDS or misunderstandings

Clary inspects Isabelle’s bruised fingers. She has a strange, dark bruise that looks like one that the diamond on a ring might leave on one of her fingers. Clary carefully touches it with her fingertip and Isabelle winces. The skin hasn’t broken, but there is a small prick that indicates that something has entered the skin. Poison? Clary doesn’t know, but she draws an iratze near Isabelle’s wrist before reaching for a wet napkin. She carefully wipes Izzy’s hands clean. The blood smudges, and leaves her sun kissed skin in a reddish tone. Clary takes a new napkin and removes that, too. It doesn’t transform Isabelle’s hands. The iratze hasn’t started to work just yet, and her hands look only slightly less beaten without the blood. There are cuts on her knuckles, red marks in her palms from her own whip. It’s the hands of a warrior princess, and it isn’t a pretty sight.

Clary loves these hands, though. She loves how warm they feel against her chin, she loves how they feel against her hips, she loves how soft they feel against her lips. Isabelle’s hands are made to be broken, they are made to fight and destroy. They are made to linger on her lover’s body, they are made to love and touch. Her hands are made to express what she thinks, they are made to study and work.

“I don’t want them to look like this,” Isabelle says, and Clary throws another look at her hands.   
“They won’t, not when it heals,” Clary promises, but Izzy doesn’t seem pleased.

“That will take days,” she states, with only a hint of irritation in her voice. Clary knows that it’s aimed at Isabelle’s hands, and not her, so she quietly agrees.

“You’re not putting makeup on wounds that are still bleeding,” Clary says, knowing what Isabelle is already thinking. Isabelle’s face shows that she understands that, even though she’d rather not.

Clary looks down at her own hands. Her nails are short, and uneven, in a pink nail polish that Magnus gave her for no apparent reason. Alec had said it was because Magnus hated her last pink nail polish, but Clary likes to think that it was out of the kindness of his heart.

Then she throws another a look at Isabelle’s hands. Her nails are naked, and her hands are bruised enough for it to be hard for her to paint her nails on her own.

“I’ll get your nail polish?” Clary says, not realizing how much it sounds like a question until she finds herself waiting for an answer.

Isabelle smiles, and says, “That would be nice.”

Clary stands up, leaves a soft kiss on Isabelle’s forehead, and goes to look for a suitable nail polish. A minute later she comes back with three different colors. One is a mixture between orange and yellow that Clary would use to paint sunsets and flowers. The second one is a lilac shade that reminds her of those moments after the sky has bled red, or the color of violets. The third one is a blue color that easily can be mistaken for black. It shimmers a little, but not nearly enough to be described as sparkly.

Isabelle looks at the small bottles. Then, after a short while, she points to the lilac one. Clary opens it without asking and takes Isabelle’s hand. She paints her pinky, first. It’s her smallest nail, but it’s longer than the others. Just slightly longer, but it looks elegant. The lilac nailpolish almost looks childish, and Clary regrets choosing it for a moment. Then, she sees Isabelle’s soft smile on her lips, and she forgets those thoughts. It’s just her, and Isabelle, and the lilac nail polish. Clary continues to paint until Izzy’s smile brightens the whole room.


End file.
